Norm Ledgin's Blog, page 2

Sally of Monticello: Founding Motherthe story continues.....

Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

88The pomp accompanying the arrival of the Marquis de Lafayetteon the mountain drew an unprecedented gathering Thursday afternoon,the 4th of November, 1824.First a bugle announced the procession’s approach. A cavalrydetachment from Fluvanna County led the parade onto the east lawn.Several carriages followed the soldiers—landaus with their tops downbearing dignitaries.The first carriage contained local officials who’d arranged thiswelcome under leadership of Jefferson Randolph. But Thomas’sgrandson, recognizable for being such a giant of a man, rode withGeneral Lafayette in the next open landau drawn by four grey horses.Two more open carriages of local celebrities followed, then a wagonof luggage.The Albemarle Lafayette Guards brought up the rear, someriding, some marching, all in uniform. A huge body of citizens walkedor rode behind them and joined other people forming half a circle onthe lawn. The cavalrymen arranged themselves astride their horses in ahalf circle opposite.All grew silent as the landaus drew up to the entrance. ThereThomas approached his old friend, first with halting steps then with aquicker pace. In tears the two old revolutionaries hugged each other.Never before have I seen Thomas throw his arms around a man andembrace him.A cheer went up from the crowd that was later said to carry tothe Mazzei family vineyards over two miles distant.Martha—in her officious manner—had commanded me to directpreparation and serving of light refreshments. I complied, seizing theopportunity to plan and then bring a battalion of slaves into action.As we distributed desserts at sunset, Mr. Madison arrived. Iheard him comment that the Marquis had gained so much weight sincetheir last meeting he wouldn’t have recognized him.Ceremonies continued through the following day. When theyconcluded and all had arrived back at the house, a weary Israel Gillettstrolled toward me in the light of the lower south wing. A bright smilespread when he glanced up.“You seem suddenly cheerful,” I said.“Because I have something to share. Something exciting I heardtoday, driving the carriage for the Master and the Marquis. And Mr.Madison.”“Oh?”“General Lafayette’s son, George Washington, was also withus.”“My, my, Israel. You were in distinguished company. Come intothe kitchen and tell me. I’ll fix cocoa.”On Friday, mid-morning, the two former Presidents hadaccompanied General Lafayette and his son, setting out fromMonticello for a tour of the still uncompleted buildings of theUniversity of Virginia. I’d witnessed their leaving. In town theyparaded with cavalrymen, a crowd of citizens trailing, Israel said.Reaching the university lawn, the “Hero of the Revolution withtwo of its Sages” climbed to the unfinished Rotunda of Thomas’sdesign. Ladies waved hundreds of handkerchiefs, all at someone’sdirection. Israel called it a “pretty sight.” For the three-hour feast in theRotunda, four hundred people sat at tables in three concentric circlesunder the dome and joined thirteen toasts for the principals, somewords bringing tears.“I’m grateful hearing what I’d love to have witnessed,” I toldIsrael. “But you haven’t mentioned what excited you.”“On the trip back a little while ago,” he said, “General Lafayettesaid it was wrong for any man to own another, that slaves ought to gofree and receive an education. He said he’d put himself and his moneyinto the American Revolution for everyone’s freedom but now grievesthat many of us are still in bondage.”Such candor by the Marquis sent chills up my arms, even in thewarm kitchen. I asked Israel whether Thomas responded.“The Master said he thought the time would come when wewould all be free, but he didn’t know how or when that would happen.He agreed it would be good for whites and Negroes if we could all beschooled, that everyone would benefit.”I sighed deeply and asked, “Did the Master say anything aboutdeportation?”“You mean, sending free Negroes to a separate place?”I nodded.“No, nothing like that. Not this time.” His voice caught. Theglint of tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. He set down his cupand rose quickly, heading for the door. “A day I’ll never forget,” hesaid as he left.

Sally of Monticello: Founding Motherthe story continues.....

Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

87The young slave Israel Gillett, who helped Burwell by buildingfires in Thomas’s suite and who aired and dusted the place, showed mea blue fabric sling. He’d fashioned it on advice of Priscilla Hemings.“It’s elegant,” I said. Either he or one of his several girlfriendshad embroidered initials on the exposed side for Thomas’s left arm,which he broke a few months ago.Thomas’s arm didn’t need the support anymore, but today’seightieth birthday gathering—Sunday, the 13th of April, 1823—couldbecome frisky, so many great-grandchildren and grandnephews andnieces about.I’m the one who’d sent Israel to Priscilla about it. Now I plannedto wrestle my Old Man to the floor if necessary to make him wear thething.Israel, in his mid-twenties, was curious about everything. Hewas learning to read and write. When I had time I helped him. Of allthe Gillett offspring he spent the most time with the Hemingses,believing we were specially ordained or something.Thomas knew about the little party coming up and has said tome, “Don’t let that fool of a son-in-law offer eulogies.”“I can’t tell the Governor what to do.”“He’s no longer Governor, Sally.”“Don’t excite your bowels over it, Thomas. Nod and smilepolitely when Mr. Randolph says nice things about you. And thankhim.”He glanced away. “I’m sorry I agreed to this party.”“It’s more for the little ones than you, you grumpy old greatgrandpapa. Here, let me fix your vest. You’ve buttoned it wrong.”When Israel brought the sling I managed to get a grudging“thank you” out of Thomas along with a growl and a snarl.The struggle to put it on before releasing him from hisbedchamber was less than I’d feared. To demonstrate his feistiness, hefelt my breasts and whispered an obscene suggestion. I responded witha wet kiss and the promise, “Later, sweetheart.”I remained on the fringes of the celebration in the parlor, whichwas heavily attended by kin from surrounding plantations. Most stoodfor lack of chairs. Martha played the harpsichord. A trio of the smallestgreat-grandchildren sang and carried posies to Thomas, which he piledin his lap and acknowledged with kisses on top of their heads.I’d acquiesced to Martha’s instruction for spreading asmörgåsbord in the dining room. Jefferson Randolph had picked up ahuge cake at Nancy West’s place, specially prepared and frosted inred, white, and blue. There would also be ice cream.When Mr. Randolph stepped to the center to speak, Martha’sadmonition, “Keep it short,” was audible. The former Governorpretended to take it in good humor.A liveried Israel sidled up to me to listen. He liked older,experienced women. His eyes always held a look of hope when hegazed into mine. But no, thank you, to that. I thought I felt Israel’shand on my backside, but the room was so crowded I gave benefit ofdoubt. It could have been Samuel Carr’s hand, for he was also close byand sending forth his hot breath. Shame on anyone who would fondlea fifty-year-old wreck like me, though everyone said I’ve lost neithermy looks nor shape. They lied.Mr. Randolph’s tribute was surprising for the succinctness withwhich he summed Thomas’s achievements. Probably he wished toavoid a tongue-lashing from Martha later. But there was a new pointworth hearing.In addition to crediting Thomas with saving civilization via theDeclaration, establishing dominion over half the world by buyingLouisiana, dictating from Paris what should go into the Constitutionand Bill of Rights, and defying Christendom by founding a secularuniversity, Mr. Randolph unveiled Thomas’s influence on the MonroeDoctrine.Apparently Thomas’s letter last fall to the President cautioningagainst foreign entanglements was critical. Mr. Randolph, however,elevated our political philosopher to the level of a living god. WhileThomas has always been a god to me, I squirmed, knowing suchunrestrained acclaim would try his patience.Fortunately two of the great-grandchildren began scuffling onthe floor and sounding like wildcats. That ended Mr. Randolph’sspeechifying to everyone’s relief. Martha banged out a lively gavotteon the harpsichord as others stepped forward to congratulate thebirthday honoree.Later, that evening, after all guests had departed and theRandolphs resumed domestic warfare upstairs, I helped Thomasundress and settled him in his alcove.There, with the fullness of heart that love’s giving has awardedme, I delivered my birthday present and heard satisfied moans ofrelease and gratitude.And when I was certain he wouldn’t die of pleasure, I gladlydelivered another, recalling his past comments that there were somethings I did to perfection.

Sally of Monticello: Founding Motherthe story continues.....

Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

86Like reaching into my body and pulling out my heart—That’s what it felt like when saying goodbye to Beverly. Then,within a few months, to Harriet. We all knew we weren’t going to seeone another again. I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks but what mytwo dears looked like, smelled like, dressed elegantly for theirrespective stage rides to Washington. Courageously looking forward tothe adventure of their lives.Beverly had delayed his departure in order to make the“runaway” process easier for his beautiful sister. He wanted to precedeher by establishing a secure place in the capital, making certain he wasaccepted as a white man.My son looked so grand in new summer togs of grey that Harriethad fashioned, cut in the latest style. He wore the start of a mustache. Ioffered to find him a suitable hat in one of the shops here, but hedeclined with thanks.“Let me learn what it’s like to go into a store where only whitepeople shop, talk to clerks as a white man would, then step out into thewhite world with a new hat on my head and never look back.”“You’ll forget your Mama?”“Never. Never.”I was careful not to cry all over his new suit. I thought my heartwould stop and shrivel and end up like a hard, ugly little peach pit.And again with dear Harriet. She trembled as she prepared forthe ride down the mountain with Mr. Bacon, who would put her on thestagecoach in town. I made certain she had all the papers withinformation on the precise whereabouts of her brother. The overseerwould give her fifty dollars in Thomas’s behalf, as he had withBeverly.She looked lovely in a simple magenta dress, lightly ruffled atthe wrists and neck and skirt hem so as not to annoy in the heat. Mydaughter. Soon to be free by “escape”—and white and twenty-one.All this had Thomas’s blessing and assistance. And why not?They were not just my children but ours. Though he couldn’t by natureembrace his children, and though he was doubly constrained againstpublic display with a “shadow family,” his help for Beverly andHarriet were, nonetheless, acts of love.For Harriet’s sake I held off weeping, but as the carriagedescended on the mountain road and she leaned out to wave ahandkerchief, my knees began to melt. Later, having no memory ofcollapsing, I felt my Old Man try to lift me from the ground. His lipstrembled, and all he could say was, “Sally. Dear Sally.” I don’t knowhow we made it back into the house.Now, relatively calm but always to remain heartsick, I drove thelandau with Thomas, Madison, and Eston aboard. The boys hadarranged to visit Hays and Tucker Isaacs, all of them in their teenswith much in common.Thomas said today’s outing—last day of June, 1822—wouldenable him to inspect the work at the university. The building crewshad taken this Sunday off. He’d grown too frail for me to let him steparound the work areas unaccompanied. More than once I had torestrain him or he might have fallen down a hole.We spent a few moments in the general merchandise shop of Mr.Huntington, one of the few places in town that carried books. Fully ayear ago Thomas had ordered a mustard-yellow silk scarf for me thatfinally arrived—“The color of your eyes,” he said, presenting it to mein hopes I might quit grieving.“She’ll never come back, you know,” I said, tying the scarf overmy head in the Russian style.“Harriet will be all right,” he said. “Beverly will make hercomfortable in Washington City. Everything went according to myplan. If she chooses later, she can either go on to Philadelphia or stayin the capital.” He’d explained to my satisfaction that the escapeprocedure was easier than arranging emancipation through elaboratepaperwork. Especially as he’d never seek their return.“You really think they can pass, Thomas? You’d know betterthan I.”“I’m sure of it, and remember they have good employmentprospects as well. They’re equipped with trades and musical talents.”We strolled through town, Thomas sometimes using his walkingstick, sometimes not. I glanced ahead to set a goal for turning around,not wanting him to grow weary.“She’ll probably marry,” I said. “She’s extraordinarilybeautiful.”“That she is. Like her mother.”I leaned toward him and clasped his hand for that. “You do loveme, Thomas? I need you to say it.”“Yes, I do. I do love you, Sally. But I think you may be takingadvantage of my decrepit condition by making me tell you so oftenthese days.”“Making up for all those times I wanted to hear it and youcouldn’t bring yourself to say it.”“I’ve changed. You’ve changed.” And, bitterly, he added,“Everything’s changed.”“Oh, let’s just enjoy the day the best we can. I plan to look at thegood side for Harriet, for Beverly. They have their lives ahead. But Imiss them so.”Now I wanted to cry, and Thomas somehow knew it.In plain view of Charlottesville’s citizens he put his free armaround my shoulder and gave a visible squeeze. My heart raced asthough I was falling in love again.“How goes it with David and Nancy’s case?” he asked. “Anyword?”I sighed. The deeper I got into my change of life, the faster mymoods shifted. “The judges seem baffled what to do about so manyconflicting charges—especially the one of miscegenation. They’d haveto arrest half the men in this town.”Thomas laughed loudly. “Probably far more than half.”“Nancy is sure it’s because of their relative prosperity that sheand David are being put through this. She owns quite a few of thesestore buildings and collects rent.”“I wish I’d been smart enough to make such investments. MaybeI wouldn’t—”I reached to touch an index finger to his lips. “Shush. You’vetried to cheer me, now it’s my turn.”We stopped in a tea room. I wanted assurance from Thomas thatI’d been a good mother, so I asked him plainly.He said, “A better mother than I’ve been a father. I’m proud ofBeverly, and I’m delighted what a perfect young lady Harriet turnedout to be.”“What about the younger boys?”“If I weren’t such an old codger, I might spend more time withthem, but—”“It’s all right, Thomas. You do your best.”He sipped his tea. His hand shook noticeably.When he lowered his cup I reached and covered his hand withmine. Others in the tea room stared, but I didn’t care.Neither did he, for he smiled—and covered my hand with hisother.

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Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

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Thomas told me today—Monday, 8th of October, 1821—he’sbeen borrowing from his overseer, Edmund Bacon. The occasion forhis admission was to announce Mr. Bacon would be quitting at somepoint in the coming season. Thomas was taking anticipated departureof the man very hard.To keep a daily watch on the progress of university construction,he often sent Mr. Bacon, who obliged Thomas’s every whim.Over the fifteen or so years of his service I’ve had a few franktalks with our overseer. At first he didn’t know what to make of me,who I was in relation to Thomas, accepting others’ stories about theorigin of my children. He wasn’t here for all the commotion Mr.Callender’s articles had caused.After we established better communication, I learned Mr. Baconwas growing guardedly jealous of Jefferson Randolph’s dominanceover Thomas’s lands. He’d begun to feel superfluous. He also knewbetter than most the dire financial situation engulfing us. I wasconfident that was part of his motivation to remove to Kentucky.More than once the overseer expressed doubts of youngJefferson’s intelligence, noting Thomas’s grandson seemed to needhelp writing a simple report or letter. He’s had no issues with theyoung man’s character, however, and was frankly disgusted with howMr. Randolph treated his son.Mr. Bacon’s faithful and efficient service helped balance thedisappointment Thomas has expressed concerning Mr. Randolph’sdeficiencies as a provider for his large family. The impending loss ofequilibrium from the overseer’s leaving was one more reasonThomas’s spirit seemed so crushed today.Did he know that Mr. Randolph, in one of his raging fits ofmadness, actually stoned young Jefferson? If he knew, it wasn’t theresult of my telling, for I’ve feared that Thomas—old as he is—wouldchase after Randolph to thrash him, or worse. He knew the man canedJefferson as a boy and formed a seething disgust if not hatred at thattime.Mr. Bacon came to know of my relationship with the Master. Hewould have had to be blind not to see it through all his years atMonticello. He showed me a great deal of respect, and I was going tomiss that. Had he not feared incurring Martha’s displeasure, we mighthave become good friends. But we maintained a proper distancemarked by mutual high regard.When Wilson Cary Nicholas died a year ago, sealing Thomas’sresponsibility to pay his loans, Mr. Bacon was the one who buried Mr.Nicholas. He then confronted creditors who were certain Nicholas hadfaked his death to avoid paying his obligations.Were it not for the university project in which Mr. Bacon hasbeen of enormous help, Thomas would surely fail in body and spirit.He was so engrossed in bringing to life the University of Virginia thatthe planning and building of the place have become critical to his ownsurvival. His daily attentions kept his heart pumping blood and hislungs taking air.My own relationship with Thomas has entered a phase I wouldbest describe as “resigned,” perhaps a peculiar label. I was past beingfrightened by what may come should the banks foreclose on Thomas’sproperties—even this house—and take possession of mortgagedslaves. If we were to sink, we should do so with as much courage aswe could muster.I was also resigned to Thomas’s aging, though he was back tooccasional riding of his favorite steed, Eagle. He could still get abouton foot, provided he was cautious. We were no longer having wildcopulation, but we still slept together as often as possible and engagedin small releases.We took joy in the sight of each other—each comfortable withthe other’s habits, touches, sounds, and odors.I’d sooner die than try to endure without Thomas, the only manI’ve ever loved. By his standards I was a young woman, but I didn’tshare his perspective. By my own reckoning I felt as though I wasaging more rapidly now. I didn’t expect to outlive him by much.My duty was to keep him alive as long as possible so that hemay accomplish everything he can.And when my dreamer has created all of which he’s capable,safeguarding the rest of us to the best of his ability and satisfying whathe saw as his life’s purpose, it would end for both of us—I hopedplacidly.

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Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

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After the show we strolled the short distance to Nancy’s home.The town fathers had ordered the installation of street lanterns, so itwas a safe walk.David was still up, reading. He rose as we entered and bowed tome. Nancy was right. I’ve seldom seen him in any other role thanstorekeeper, but here, relaxing at home, he seemed a treasure of a man.She went to check on their youngest, Agnes, and returnedapparently satisfied. “I’ll fix tea.”“The kettle’s ready,” David said with his characteristic accent.“Miss Sally, come sit by the light. Tell me about Animal Magnetism.Something to do with the disputed theories of my countryman, HerrMesmer. Isn’t that so?”We sat. “Yes. I had just arrived in France when a royalcommission discredited Mesmer’s theory. Nobody oozes a mysteriousfluid that captivates other people.”“You reject the concept of charisma?” David asked.“No, I reject that charisma has a physical quality. I’m noauthority, but I’ve spent the better part of my life in close companywith a scientist. Thomas fears that charlatans may use Mesmer’s ideasto exploit their patients.”Nancy rolled in a cart carrying tea service and a tray of littlecakes. “You two are turning a funny play into something serious.David, buy tickets. Take Tommy and Jane. You’ll laugh your kishkasloose.” As she poured tea she said, “Sally thinks we’re meshugge,living together openly, inviting the law down on us.”David looked at me and raised his eyebrows.“I know what the word means, David. Yes, the thought crossedmy mind.”“Crossed your mind?” Nancy said. “You came right out and saidit. But I told you I have a plan.”“You promised to startle me. What sort of plan?”The cakes were apple strudel, but with more flakiness and a bitof honey.“The census taker was here,” she said. “We declared David to behead of the household. Now it’s official—we’re a family after morethan thirty years of maintaining two homes. But we’re nowunacceptable.”Hearing that distressed me. “There’s never before been a protestabout you two,” I said, “maybe because, living apart, you avoideddrawing overmuch attention. There are others in town who mix butstay inconspicuous.”Mentally I counted my niece Sally Bell and grandniece BetsyFarley, each living with a white man in Charlottesville. And Nancy’sbrother James had actually married a white woman here, SusannahHarlow—legally.From nervous stress and confusion I found myself biting intoanother strudel. Truth be told, I was the last person who should havebeen talking about remaining inconspicuous. By now the entireEnglish-speaking world has learned my name, if not also the Frenchspeaking. I was thankful Nancy didn’t remind me of that.She said, “It’s because David and I are prospering. For that theysee us as flaunting our relationship. There’ll be a grand jury.”“Oh, my God.” I almost choked on the pastry. I set down mycup. “A grand jury.” I covered my face with both hands and shook myhead.David said, “Nancy, you’re frightening her. Tell her the goodpart.”“The good part? Sally, stop screwing your face up like you’reready to cry. They’re not—going—to win, hear? We’re going toprevail.”“But the law—”“The law, the law,” she said, mimicking. “The law be damned.”“How can you say that?”“You put your finger on it when you said ‘never a protest.’ Wehave seven children. Tommy’s thirty-one, Jane’s twenty-four. Acouple of the younger ones have even attended white schools. If Davidand I behaved so offensively, why didn’t somebody step forward andcharge us with a crime before now?”David said, “We consulted lawyers. Even if the grand jurycharges us, we’re confident the courts will throw it out. They let it gotoo long.” He shrugged. “Nancy’s right. We’ll prevail.”I returned a polite smile.I wasn’t going to say it, but lawyers were often wrong.I’ve been the companion of one for thirty-two years, startingsoon after I told him a few things he was wrong about.

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Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

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Thomas had reasoned correctly that because of Nancy West’sposition in town she and I would be allowed to attend a play at theSwan Tavern. For the performance of Sunday, 20th of August, 1820,he’d given us tickets to see Animal Magnetism, the comedy byElizabeth Inchbald attacking medical quackery.“How’s your hearing?” Nancy asked while scanning seatstoward the back.“There are two chairs over to the side,” I pointed out. “I thinkwe’ll offend few people there, maybe none.”“Offend.” She snorted. “I’m losing patience. I’m a free woman,and you’re the President’s lady.”I set my lips firmly and shook my head as we took the side seats.“Thank you for letting me stay tonight with you and David after theshow. He was kind to take my horse to the livery for boarding.”She waved her hand in dismissal. “That was nothing. DavidIsaacs is an unacknowledged saint.” She nodded to an acquaintancewho touched his hat brim. “You like the way we built onto his house?Wings on both sides? Now big enough for all our children and aboarder.”“And have you sold your house across town?”“Finally got a buyer, yes. And I’ve been putting money intomore properties and renting them out. You know, of course, theuniversity will make Charlottesville prosperous. Just the fact that it’scoming has helped make last year’s financial crisis come down on usless severely.”I feared Nancy might be moving too fast as the town’s leadingbusinesswoman— a woman of color now living openly with a Jew. Ifought with myself against expressing that, but the situation washazardous.She turned to me, leaning forward to catch my attention fully.“You think I’ve gone crazy, don’t you?”“What do you mean?”“Tempting fate. Thumbing my nose at the whites inCharlottesville, not to mention the law.”“Not crazy, Nancy. No. Full of what your David calls chutzpah,maybe, but not crazy.” I glanced away, then turned back. “All right.Yes, crazy.”“I thought so.” She sighed heavily. “Just remember, Sally, rightis right. I’m not going to change, so long as I stick to that principle.”“I hope your principle doesn’t rise up and hurt you—or David,or any of the children.”Nancy leaned forward again to look me in the eyes. “After theplay, when we get back to the house, I’m going to tell you something Iexpect will startle you.”“Oh? It takes a lot to startle me these days.” I snickered. “I canhardly wait to hear.”“You’ll love it.” She leaned back. “And if there’s any part of thisplay I have trouble understanding, I expect you to explain.”“If I can, I will.”The performance of Animal Magnetism by the traveling actors—members of the Caldwell Company in town for three weeks—broughtraucous laughter. I was sorry Thomas wasn’t here, though he’d said hewould try to catch another showing of it in the coming week.As I watched the satire unfold, I couldn’t help but wonder whatNancy would tell me later that might surprise me. Though she wasn’tso well-read as I, she wasn’t unenlightened. Along with the courageand business ability she’d shown over the years to accumulate wealth,she possessed wisdom in large part from confronting prejudice with aneven disposition.“You know,” she said softly during a brief intermission, “Mr.Jefferson should have applied his anti-slavery sentiments against theMissouri thing. The country can’t get rid of slavery by admittinganother slave state.”“He has reservations, but a compromise will bring in Maine as afree state.”“The papers printed his entire letter to Senator Holmes—thatslavery was like having the ‘wolf by the ear.’ Can neither hold it norlet it go. Then that claptrap about sending freed slaves back to Africa. Imean, this is Eighteen-Twenty. Aren’t we all past that nonsense?”“Pish-posh, Nancy. Be fair. He didn’t mention Africa.”“Well, where else would he expatriate us? His word,‘expatriate’.”“Let’s you and I not bicker over that. I’ve told him a thousandtimes he’s muddleheaded on the subject.”“‘Wolf by the ear,’ indeed. Next time he enters my pastry shop,I’ll come from behind the counter and wolf-bite his skinny backside.You can tell him I said that.”I doubled over laughing, causing a few playgoers to turnaround—and frown at seeing two colored women having a good time.A bell rang to signal resumption of the play, so we shushedourselves and paid attention. That is, I paid as good attention as Icould, wondering what could any longer startle me.

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Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

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Word came from Richmond that my brother Bob died. He wasfifty-seven.And word from Wilson Cary Nicholas was that he couldn’t meethis loan obligations. The debt now fell on Thomas’s shoulders.Estimates of his total indebtedness ran several times Nicholas’s notesfor twenty thousand.Young Jefferson has recovered from wounds of this pastwinter—miraculously—and was in substantial charge of hisgrandfather’s properties, some of which he must now sell, includingslaves.When I strolled by gatherings of house servants and field handson Mulberry Row, there was an eerie quiet this 7th day of August,1819. Sadness at the passing of Isabel Hern, yes, but they also sensedwhat lay ahead.In my current state of numbness, I relied on Beverly and Harrietto manage their younger brothers and to help me in the main house.Thomas has suggested delaying freedom for Beverly, nowtwenty-one, so I needn’t suffer a permanent separation just yet.Besides, Thomas enjoyed having our talented son play the fiddle toentertain guests and accompany dances.When Harriet reaches the age of majority in less than threeyears, brother and sister can help each other settle elsewhere, bothlikely passing as white. Thomas has promised to aid their running offin a way that won’t call law enforcers’ attention to them as freedslaves.Beverly was amenable to postponing his separation, realizingthat once he and Harriet left we would probably never see one anotheragain.While I was grateful Thomas invested himself as father to ourchildren, however lightly, I was aware of strains under which helabored to do anything these days.Financial panic affected everyone. Part of it was due to cropfailures, which we and the Randolphs have suffered on several farms.The bulk of it was due to banking issues I didn’t understandcompletely.Yet Thomas continued to indulge himself despite his huge debt.I’ve had mixed emotions about that.As an example, he was currently at Poplar Forest, finishing aplace he should never have undertaken to build. It was an expense hecould ill afford. But as a creative person—an architect—he was veryproud of the result: A functional dwelling in the shape of an octagon.Further, wagonloads of wine kept arriving at Monticello,shipments from Europe. They represented not only an extravagancebut reminded me of drinking’s harsh impact on the family. Thedetestable Charles Bankhead was a prime example.And Mr. Randolph has started tippling more heavily, partlybecause Thomas bypassed him in favor of young Jefferson, and likelybecause he was married to the contentious and father-focused Martha.Thomas seemed little affected by wine, which he regularlyconsumed in surprising quantity. Never a sign of intoxication. He alsodrank beer and hard cider. Perhaps it eased him through the universityproject, numbed the pain in his joints, moderated his headaches,helped control his bowels, and induced the rest he needed increasinglyin advanced age.On the other hand, it probably dulled what should have beensharp concern about his debts.Thomas’s ability to ignore that which he wished to ignore and toacknowledge that which he wished to acknowledge remained a puzzleto all.His dangerous financial condition appeared to have no consistentimpact on his outward behavior, only on his private health issues.Rather he experienced short-lived alarm but seemed to recover quicklyand never control the spending sinking him. He borrowed repeatedlyas though there was to be no final accounting.Because of the debt, and notwithstanding my station asThomas’s mate, my future has become a question mark.If he were to die, which will surely happen before I do, I couldgo on the auction block. Regardless of his instructions to Martha aboutme and my children, she might not honor his wishes. In that case,running away would be our only alternative.For now, however, I was committed to Thomas, come what may.I aimed to keep to that. Though we’ve taken no formal vows, we werewedded to each other all the same. We’ve talked about that on anumber of occasions, because as a lawyer he enjoyed probing thenuances of common law.Above all in our relationship he prized loyalty, and that waswhat we’ve given each other and would continue to give.Our condition today seemed a far cry from ten years ago, whenThomas returned from the Presidency. Though in his middle sixtiesthen, he was young in spirit, thrilled to be home, agile in hismovements, ardent in his lovemaking.This year he has suffered terribly from illnesses. And while agehas taken its toll, he remained relatively even-tempered, except oversuch catastrophes as that which young Bankhead inflicted on thefamily last winter.         I’ve never sought and will never seek love with another man.My half-sister whom he wed back in Seventy-Two couldn’t have madethat claim, for she’d been married to Mr. Skelton. And Maria Coswaycouldn’t have either, for she belonged to that libertine of a husband.In legal ownership and in free surrender of heart and soul, I wasproud to say I will have belonged only to Thomas Jefferson.But for the present, as Thomas faced financial ruin and declininghealth, the situation for me and all other Negroes on the mountain hasbecome a question mark.

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Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

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I summoned Beverly to bring a carriage around and drive me toCharlottesville immediately. “Not an open wagon,” I said. “It’s bloodyfreezing cold.”“But we’ll be going down at night, Mama. You’ve cautioned usnot to try that.”“Have Davy Bowles help you ready the new landau. It haslanterns. We must follow your father. He’s in a terrible state. Hurry.”Thomas had mounted a horse and ridden in the darkness andcold four miles to James Leitch’s store. There, his grandson Jeffersonwas reportedly stretched out with stab wounds that bled profusely.I was duty-bound to attend to Thomas’s safety and horrified tolearn what had happened to my grandnephew.I refused to delay our departure by finding Martha to discuss theviolence to her eldest son. Burwell sensed my uneasiness anddisclosed that Martha and Mr. Randolph had already left for Leitch’sin their carriage, also fitted with lanterns.The knifing assailant had been Charles Bankhead, husband ofThomas’s eldest granddaughter, Anne. I remembered my apprehensionat their wedding ten years ago, for Bankhead had come into themarriage with a reputation as a boozer and hell-raiser.Mr. Randolph and Burwell have both had disagreements withBankhead. At one point Mr. Randolph is said to have felled his son-inlawwith a fireplace poker. That story has been distorted several times,but its basis lay in Bankhead’s rough handling of Anne while drunk orsober.We made our way down the dark trail. I was proud of Beverlyfor his control of the horses and his watchful eye for ice patches.A small crowd had gathered at Mr. Leitch’s place of business onthe Courthouse Square. The Randolphs had just pulled up and alightedand were entering the store. Our overseer, Edmund Bacon, was alsothere.Inside, Thomas bent over his grandson, weeping. I went to himand placed a hand on his shoulder—by my look daring anyone tomove me from that spot.Local doctors were still treating and bandaging Jefferson’swounds. Their first bandage applications lay bloodstained on the floor.The young man had been stabbed in the hip and the left arm and hadlost a lot of blood—a lot of blood. His eyes were closed, and hisbreathing was erratic.After viewing her son, Martha became tight-lipped and stonyfaced.Mr. Randolph was characteristically enraged, asking witnesseshow Bankhead had so grievously injured Jefferson. Mr. Baconvolunteered that he’d broken up the fight. He pieced the story togetherfor Mr. Randolph and others within hearing.The two men had confronted each other in front of the store onthis Monday, first day of February, 1819. They exchangedinflammatory words over Bankhead’s treatment of Anne.Bankhead brandished first one knife, then another. Jeffersonsought to defend himself with a whip. While backing from a blade,Jefferson fell but was able to double his whip and strike Bankheadacross the face with the butt. They grappled on the ground, whereBankhead stabbed his brother-in-law in the hip and arm. Mr. Baconstepped in.Jefferson bled and weakened. Several men carried him into thestore. A doctor arrived, then another. Bankhead received treatment forfacial wounds and was taken to court, where he posted bail.During the overseer’s telling, Thomas quieted his sobbing, thenstraightened. “I want my grandson driven to Monticello. I’ll sendservants and a litter.”I whispered to Thomas, “Nurse Isabel is sick, unable to providecare. This is more than Priscilla and I can handle.”It relieved me to see one of the medical men shake his head andapproach Thomas. “Sir, his wounds are too severe. We’ll have to makehim comfortable here.”James Leitch came forward and said to Thomas and thephysicians, “Yes, let him stay here if that’s best. My wife is bringingnecessary pillows and linens, whatever the young man requires. We’llarrange watches so he’s never alone.”Mrs. Leitch arrived with bedclothes and arranged them underdoctors’ supervision while Thomas stepped away. Beverly approachedand said, “Sir, please don’t ride your horse back up the mountain. Ihave the landau with lanterns and would be happy to drive. I’ll hitchyour horse behind.”Thomas glanced at me. A glimmer of pride played across hisface. He looked at our son squarely and nodded. “Thank you, Beverly.I accept.”Mr. Bacon offered to accompany our carriage. Beverly shook hishead and suggested he follow Martha and her husband instead. Theoverseer looked at me. I nodded to confirm we would be safe.Riding back, I hooked my arm into Thomas’s and leaned againsthim. Renewed teardrops fell on my hand. He wasn’t fully recoveredfrom the sight of his grandson.Anger against Bankhead was sure to come tomorrow. I steeledmyself against ever saying “I told you so.”While tonight’s experience wore on Thomas emotionally, it alsoaffected him physically more seriously than he’d let on. I guided himto his bedchamber, then had to help him use the privy and undress.I wasn’t sure Thomas heard Martha and her husband raisingvoices in another part of the house, but I did. I had no interest in whatthey might be arguing about this time.Conflict in marriage, slaves’ dissatisfactions, debts, illnesses,violence to kin—all continued to stalk us.My brother Bob in Richmond, the first slave Thomas freed,recently lost a hand in an accidental shooting. His health has suffered.“Stay with me tonight,” Thomas mumbled.I thought of ten-year-old Eston, then recalled when Beverly leftus at the east door he’d said, “I’ll take care of everyone, Mama. Dowhat you must for our father.”Beverly was nearly twenty-one and would soon make his way inthe world, as Thomas had promised.Removing my clothes and snuggling beside Thomas in thealcove bed, I tallied the negatives—the costs of my life’s choices.Then I felt the warmth of the great old man beside me and recalled theblessings.I whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear, for he’d already gone togentle snoring, “Till death do us part.”

Sally of Monticello: Founding Motherthe story continues.....

Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

80After struggling to ease Thomas’s pain from a host of boils allover his body, I’ve coaxed him into a comfortable slumber in thealcove bed.Aging Isabel Hern and I, bathing him, found him lucid at first.We understood what he described as success at a Rockfish Gapmeeting concerning the university. But his strength gave way soon andhe began to slur his words.Before falling asleep he grasped my wrist, pulled me closer, andwhispered what sounded like, “Sally, I love you.”I was having trouble believing he actually said the words I’velonged to hear for thirty years. Probably in delirium he said somethingelse and I imagined I’d heard that sweet declaration. Or he could havebeen in such pain he thought he was dying, and he needed to say whathe felt.I compounded today’s confusion by dismissing a local physicianwho’d foolishly applied ointment of mercury and sulphur. PriscillaHemings pointed out how the medicine had worsened the eruptions,thus the bathing of Thomas with extreme caution.He’d gone from the meeting of university site commissioners atRockfish Gap to Warm Springs, believing the baths there wouldrelieve rheumatism. Instead, his soaking in the warm waters day afterday not only bored him but produced the boils, infections fromevidently unsanitary conditions. He then traveled in torment severaldays to return, feverish, to Monticello. Here it was the final day ofAugust, 1818, and he’d carried the boils, untreated, for too long.Isabel has returned to her cabin. I admitted Martha Randolph,who carried in her five-month-old, but when the infant begancaterwauling I hustled them from the bedchamber to enforce Thomas’sresting. I was sure she resented that and would hold it against me, but Ididn’t care.Even sturdy Martha was slowing with age. She would turn fortysixnext month. Little George Wythe Randolph—her twelfthdelivery—was likely to be her last. The Democratic-Republicans weretrumpeting her husband as Virginia’s next Governor. I doubted Marthawould accompany Mr. Randolph to Richmond.As for Thomas, now seventy-five, he no longer rode every dayand sometimes used a walking stick to get around. He was subject tolong-lasting sieges of severe headaches. And, of course, there was theproblem of recurring diarrhea.The university project also took its toll on his health andstamina. Thomas was involved in every detail—the layout of thebuildings, their architectural design, the hiring of construction crews,what subjects were to be taught and what kind of professors shouldteach them, how the institution was to be administered, the financingof the venture, and so on and so on.Before the meeting at Rockfish Gap the first of this month,Thomas wrote every county clerk in the state for information aboutpopulation and about travel conditions to Charlottesville.Then, almost mysteriously, he put together a list of everyoneeighty years of age or older in Albemarle County. With this and theclerks’ information in hand, he schemed for what I knew would besome sort of coup de théâtre.As we bathed him he spoke excitedly past the pain to tell Isabeland me how things went at Rockfish Gap.The group of twenty-one men elected him commission chairmanand straightaway discussed alternative sites for locating what willbecome the University of Virginia. Naturally, other cities were incontention with Charlottesville.Thomas listened in silence until debate reached a stalemate,whereupon he rose to make the point that Charlottesville deservedselection because of its salubrious climate. To support that, heproduced his list of octogenarians.Then, from a leather case, he pulled a cardboard map in theshape of Virginia and set it on a table. He showed that Charlottesvillewas the geographical center of the state, easily accessible from allcorners. He had yet another map showing the distribution of the state’speople. Again, Albemarle County was the center of the state’spopulation, factoring out slaves, of course.The commission was overwhelmed, Thomas said, and agreedthat the Central College site here in Charlottesville was the right placeto establish the state university. Final approval was up to the Virginialegislature, which was expected to endorse the commission’sconclusions.I’ve never seen Thomas commit his energies so fully to anythingas this university, but he was doing it in such a way and at a time oflife that would kill any other man. He wanted something unique andunaffiliated with a church, an institution offering technical andpractical studies in addition to classical subjects.I watched Thomas as he slept. His breathing became even. Hisface lost the look of pain and acquired an easier appearance.When I was certain he wouldn’t wake, I went around the foot ofthe alcove to his study—what he often referred to as his “cabinet.”There, to satisfy new suspicions, I opened his memorandum books forthe first time in several months.The Charlottesville merchant, James Leitch, had been lendingThomas large amounts of cash all through the summer. Mr. Leitch’ssupport evidently made it possible for Thomas to travel to RockfishGap.We’ve had a ruinous drought this year, so despite grandsonJefferson Randolph’s able management of the plantations and Mr.Bacon’s experienced overseeing, there was little if any profit to beexpected from farm operations.And then I read something that made me gasp and cry out.From the study side of the bed I could see that I hadn’t wokenThomas. I held my hand to my face from shock.Oh, God.On the first of May, Thomas had endorsed loans by the Bank ofthe United States at Richmond for twenty thousand dollars to WilsonCary Nicholas. Of course, last year Mr. Nicholas had endorsed a loanfor Thomas, but the amount was a fraction of this.Regardless whether the borrower was father-in-law to Thomas’sfavorite grandson, Jefferson Randolph, Thomas had no businessputting his name to a loan this size.If Mr. Nicholas should default—I pictured my dear friends and kin being rounded up as theloan’s collateral, loaded into wagons and carted away for auction,families broken up forever.A sound of wails along Mulberry Row rose in my imagination.The cries spilled down the mountain, tearing people’s hearts out andbreaking mine.I could see white men with whips, ripping clothes off youngslave women like Sukey or Dolly or Sandy, feeling their buttocks andbreasts, placing hands between their legs.Thomas, what have you done this time?

Sally of Monticello: Founding Motherthe story continues.....

Sally of Monticello: Founding Mother the story continues...

79Nancy West was remarkable. She gave birth at fifty years of age,and she was able to nurse her newborn, Agnes.We sat in her open carriage at a respectable distance from othersawaiting the cornerstone laying for the first building of CentralCollege, formerly Albemarle Academy. It was a chilly 6th of October,1817.My nine-year-old Eston walked Nancy’s three-year-old JuliaAnn in the grass nearby. I had asked him to avoid the red earth scrapedraw for construction.President James Monroe was here today. This was his land.My Thomas and Mr. Madison were also here, so this gatheringof three Presidents was probably a stronger attraction than theceremony itself. There was to be some fluff involving the Freemasons.Otherwise it would be a solemn occasion.Nancy pointed to twine strung between stakes for dimensions ofwhat will be Pavilion Seven of Thomas’s plan for the college. “That’stwine from the Isaacs store, you know. We’d be a problem up closer,but funny how some string can help me feel a part of all this.”I shook my head. “Small comfort. At least no one’s running usoff. I hope you realize, without backing by you and David and otherCharlottesville merchants, this might not be happening.”“Oh, I’m not so sure. Mr. Jefferson seems so driven to start auniversity that he’d defy a biblical flood. We’re just giving support.Good for the town, good for Virginia.”“It’s Thomas’s obsession, and he has tricks up his sleeve I wish Icould disclose. You’ll hear soon enough.”Nancy said, raising her eyebrows and looking away, “A pitynone of my children can attend the university when it’s completed.”“Nor mine, though their father is chief founder. I hope whenBeverly and Harriet go free, they’ll pass for white and enter auniversity up north. He likes science and music. Harriet leans tofabrics and could design clothing.”Nancy rewrapped Agnes against a sudden brisk breeze. “Eventhough mine are freeborn, there’s no hiding skin tone. It’ll block theirschooling.” She grew pensive, staring at the cloudy sky, lips firm.Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.I said, “Thomas’s notions about education generally includeopportunities for Negroes. But his ideas aren’t so well formed as to sayhow schooling might specifically include our children. I’m guessing inseparate facilities.”Nancy shuddered, seeming impatient. “Let’s summon DavyBowles to drive. I see him sitting on that tree stump.” She sighed, thengave me a pleading look. “I’ve lost interest in this cornerstonefolderol. Can we just go to my house for tea?”I understood, also tired of the hypocrisy. I signaled Eston tobring Julia Ann and called to Davy. If Thomas was going to speak, noone past the first or second row would hear him anyway. He was theworst public speaker on two continents.At Nancy’s house, I asked, “Does your David still live alone byhis store?”“We’ve talked about my giving up this place and living together,but we’re not sure how to get around the law.”I didn’t want to press Nancy, but I had to know. “You saidthere’s acceptance in Charlottesville. Has something changed?”“Oh yes, Sally, something’s changed.” Her tone was bitter. “Ourbusiness success has made others envious.”I sipped tea and pondered that. “But you’ve earned yoursuccess.”“Doesn’t matter. We have to avoid the perception of a pushyJew teamed with a doesn’t-know-her-place nigger. Could bring realtrouble.”I swallowed hard on that one. “Has anyone said such a thing?”“Only whispers—so far.”“Oh, Nancy. I thought this community was forward-looking.”“I guess there are limits. We’re beginning to learn what theyare.”Nancy’s business acumen was well known. While she and DavidIsaacs have accumulated property and wealth, they’ve lived modestlyand separately to ward off a community reaction.But one never knew what might stir a storm.